3 years

 Today marks the three year "anniversary" of my Dad passing away.  I miss my Dad terribly everyday, but today makes my heart break a little more for him. 

 Like the year before, I read my previous blog post about this day from last year.  I wanted to see how much better (or worse) I am feeling today compared to one year ago.  It's a little strange for me to read something that I've written, especially something filled with so much emotion.

This past year was the first time I've felt like something (anything) positive has come out of the horrific experience of losing my Dad.  One of my good friends, Nikki lost her Dad a few months ago.  For one of the first times I was so honest about the grieving process I've gone through with someone.  My heart was breaking for my dear friend Nikki, she was all I was thinking about for weeks.  For the first time I really empathized with someone I cared about so much losing their loved one.  I felt like I had advice (some good some probably not so good) to give.  

After my Dad died, I had a lot of friends who encouraged me to see a grief counselor.  I've always thought that counseling/therapy/psychologists was a load of crap.  I thought counseling was for crazy people only.  I mean honestly, how can talking to a complete stranger make you feel better?  It wasn't until about a year after his passing, that I had the realization that I really wasn't getting better.  I never really considered myself "depressed", I was just sad...I just missed my Dad, that's all.  I had a few close friends who kept telling me...if you don't deal with your emotions, they will deal with you...

 It wasn't until Sean pointed it out to me, that I was sad ALL the time, and that me being so "sad" was starting to affect our relationship.  He didn't know what to do, I didn't know what to do, neither of us had ever been through anything like this.  I remember bawling my eyes out that night he finally confronted me about it (shocker I know).  I just told him that I wasn't trying to be so sad and crying all the time, that's just how I felt...and I didn't know what to do about it.  He finally said it, "maybe you should talk to someone Becky, do you think you need to take something to make you feel happy again? I miss the old Becky."  Ugh....hit me like a ton of bricks.  The most unemotional/non-confrontational/unobservant person alive was calling me out....

I was SO anti pills, even more so than anti counseling.  Pills were for REALLY crazy people.  My Mom always took tons of pills, and trust me...she is crazy.  I'm one of those really annoying people who doesn't even want to take Tylenol or ibuprofen, just on principal...I will only take medicine if I'm really sick.  But, apparently I WAS really sick...

I didn't know where to start, the first place Sean and I could think of was our Bishop.  My friend Starlyn who gave me a lot of advice counseled me to speak with someone of my own faith, which was a really good idea.  I was so embarrassed, I couldn't even talk to the Bishop about it.  I had Sean call him to set things up (still thinking counseling is for crazy people).  Luckily, I have an amazing husband, who only wanted me to get better, and took care of everything.  

Despite my reservations, I met with the counselor.  It was a disaster.  I sobbed like an idiot throughout the entire session.  She asked me to tell her the story of how my Dad passed away, and everything leading up to it.  I could barely even speak through all the tears.  I was basically paying someone to listen to me cry...it was terrible.  At the end of the session, she said what I had been fearing all along.  She said that she highly recommended that I get put on anti-depressants...I was devastated.  She explained to me that I wasn't just sad, I was depressed.  I couldn't get through one day (or one conversation) without a complete emotional breakdown.  I told her that I really didn't want to take anything, I explained that my Mom had always been on some type of medication, and I didn't want to go down that road.  I was "strong" enough to get through 'this' (whatever this was) without any help.  It wasn't until she put it in physiology terms that I really understood why I needed them.  Once she started talking about the physiology of antidepressants, it made more sense to me.  I took countless numbers of biology, physiology, chemistry, anatomy, and etc. classes in college to finally make some sense of all of this.  Once she started talking about synapses, neurotransmission, and serotonin levels I could get a grip on things.  Apparently getting a Bachelor of Science wasn't a complete waste.

I went to my general physician (not enthusiastically may I add) and basically had the same embarrassing tissue wasting/tree killing experience as I had with the grief counselor.  She 100% agreed that I needed to be put on something.  I honestly felt so defeated, I really thought I could do this on my own. Of course we had marginal, at best health insurance at the time.  So, not only was I completely against grief counseling or taking anti depressants, they were both extremely expensive for us.  Sean kept reminding me that there was no price tag on my well being.  So I went, begrudgingly, and followed the doctors orders.  

No one likes to be wrong (especially not me), but I was wrong.  Don't ask me how, but talking to a complete stranger about my sad times worked.  The medication helped me remember what it was like to be happy again, and go more than a few hours without a breakdown.  Honestly, I could have gone more frequently to the grief counselor, and I was elated to get off the medication after the Dr. cleared me.

I was so embarrassed to tell anyone about getting help.  Besides Sean, I had only told 3 of my closest friends, and swore them to secrecy.  When Nikki's Dad passed away, I saw it as an opportunity to help one of my friends, like so many had helped me.  I don't think it matters how old you are, losing a parent is emotionally devastating...especially when you are so close with them.  Sharing my story with Nikki made me feel like maybe something other than sadness could come from my hard time, that maybe that's why I had to go through it...so I could help others going through the same thing. 

One of things my grief counselor did with me during a session was to list off all of the cliche things that ignorant people said to me when my Dad passed away.  Things like... "It will get better with time", "He wouldn't want you to be sad", "He's in a better place", "I know how you feel",  "He's not in pain anymore", "The first year is the hardest", "Don't cry, you need to be strong" ,"He had a good life", "It could be worse", "God never gives us more than we can handle".  Honestly, that's all a bunch of bullshit.  Sorry, but it's true.  For the love, please never say any of those things to anyone that's grieving!  She then asked me how I felt when people said these things to me, and I said...well it kind of makes me want to punch them in the face.  She asked me if I was mad, no one had asked me that the entire time I was going though this ordeal.  It made me have to think about it, I said that I guess I was.

Luckily, she was LDS (which I highly recommend seeing someone of your own faith-it just makes things easier I think).  She asked me if I was mad at God, I had to think about that too.  I told her that I guess I was.  (Don't freak out people)  I told her that I didn't really know how to pray anymore, or I guess what to pray for.   For the years leading up to my Dad's death, I had been pleading...just begging my Heavenly Father to help make my Dad get better and just be healthy again.  If Sean ever prayed and left it out, I remember making him start the prayer all over again.  My prayers consumed me, and I had never prayed for anything harder in my life.  Then when he didn't get better and passed away, I just felt like God had forsaken me, that he didn't answer my prayers...and then after that I didn't really know what to pray for, and really how to pray anymore.  Sean never said anything, but when we said our prayers together before bed, I wouldn't say them, I just had him pray.  Even when Sean asked me to pray, I said no...I felt like I had nothing to say, everything I wanted or needed was gone, so what was the point?

The grief counselor said it was normal to be mad at God.  She said that it's okay to be angry sometimes.  I told her that I knew that the church was true, I still went to church on Sundays, and I still had a testimony...I just didn't want to pray.  It wasn't until about six months ago, when our Bishop in our new ward (who knew nothing about the situation) asked me to speak on prayer in sacrament meeting.  It was the first time I had shared my experience with prayer.  I think God has a sense of humor sometimes...of all the topics he could have asked me to speak on...the Bishop felt inspired to ask me speak about prayer.  There's nothing to do besides laugh.  

Not too much time had passed since Nikki's Dad passed away, when I had another friend's Dad pass away.  I didn't go into as much detail, but I shared my story and let her know that I was here for her if she needed me.  I let her know that I am very well aware that there is nothing anyone can say to make anything better, but I'm a great listener...and sometimes that's all someone sad needs, is a shoulder to cry on.  A few weeks later she shared an article with Nikki and me about grief...real grief, and how difficult it is to cope with it.  This scripture stuck out to me...

“Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn of me…for my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” (Matt. 11: 28-30)

 

Heavenly Father had literally given me more than I could possibly bear, but as soon as I realized he (medical professionals, pharmaceuticals, friends) was there to help make that burden lighter,  I could finally begin to cope.  I'm not even going to fathom that I went about things the right or easy way, but I do know that I got through it (getting through it) and that it's possible.  

If this last year has taught me anything, it's that maybe I can help people (or just listen) going through the process of losing a loved one.  Lots of people are "strong", I like to think of myself as a strong, independent person.  I don't need help with anything, I can do it all by myself.  But, WHEN...not if,  God gives us more than we can possibly bear, to let him make our burden light. 

I miss my Dad, I miss him so much that it hurts...I'll always miss him, especially on days like today.  But, I know I'll see him again one day.  Love you Dad, xoxo.